Vengeance Of the Valkyrie
by Jackyblu
Summary: It's five o'clock and Cuddy wants a word with House. His imagination runs away from him even if he can't out run her. Short fun ficlet


This story idea came to me while I was in the hospital. I had been working on this ficlet while recovering from surgery. The scene takes place just after House gets his motorcycle.

Vengeance Of the Valkyrie

Dr. Gregory House limped out of his office and locked the door. He stood for a moment resting his forehead against the soothing coolness of the metal doorframe. He closed his eyes and moaned softly. God, his head hurt and it was making him a bit nauseous. He was giving his stomach a moment to settle when he heard the most unwelcome sound known to man, _especially_ if that man was Greg House! Click, click, click, click, click, getting louder and louder as it echoed down the hall toward him. He turned in a vain attempt to escape in the opposite direction.

"Dr. House, I would like several words with you!" demanded Dr. Lisa Cuddy, Dean of Medicine at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. "House!"

Her stiletto heels continued clicking toward him. She was carrying a file in her hand.

He stopped and looked heavenward and begged whatever deity created the universe to strike him dead right now. _Nope, no such luck. That was the problem with deities - unreliable during times of crisis. _He turned to face her.

"Good evening Dr. Cuddy. _Love_ to stay and chat, but as it's _way_ past five o'clock we'll just have to catch up tomorrow. You bring the coffee and I'll get the donuts."

He used his cane to block her and limped down the hall hoping to get away. She pursued him.

"We are talking, now!" was her opening chord.

The opera began. It was a Wagner. House's eyes widened. _Oh my God, a Valkyrie is pursuing me!_

"I can never find you! You don't answer your pages!"

Brünnhilde was in full voice. She had no trouble catching up to her limping prey, and was at his side as he continued his attempted escape.

"Please, sotto voce," he begged her wincing. She ignored him.

"You're files are incomplete! You're _months_ behind with your paperwork so accounts receivables can send out billings!"

Her voice became an inharmonious cacophony to accompany his pain. Try as he might he couldn't get the Wagner out of his head. He chanced a look at her and smirked as the fantasy of Cuddy in the full Viking warrior goddess attire filled his mind.

She _saw_ his smirk and _raised_ her voice, "Am I amusing you Dr. House?" she asked heatedly.

"Not amused so much as aroused," he leered at her. "Ever thought of being a blond? Wearing your hair in braids? How would you look in metal?'

She gave him a disgusted look. "What goes _on_ in that mind of yours?"

He gritted his teeth and inhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You don't want to know."

They reached the elevator and House leaned on his cane while stabbing the button frantically. She was deep into an aria about his skipping clinic hours. He was still fantasizing about her in a helmet with horns, full armor, and wielding a weapon when the bell sounded the elevators arrival and the door slid open.

House turned and gave her a quizzical look. "Can we take an intermission? My ride is here."

He stepped into the elevator and pressed the button to close the door. As it slid shut a _sword_ suddenly appeared and held it open. Brünnhilde stepped in.

"Can't leave in the middle of the show. That was just act one. Her comes act two!" she said looking fire at him.

Eyes wide, House recoiled in horror and backed up against the wall. Muzak played Hall and Oate's 'Man Eater' while the door slid shut.

The elevator began its descent. Looking at House she wondered why he had to be so dramatic. She had used the file in her hand to block the closing door. He had mocked a look of horror on his face and flattened himself against the wall. _Why did he always act like he was twelve years old? _ She waved the file under his nose.

"See this? You were to have your notes about this case on my desk _last week_! Our attorney is trying to keep us from being sued by one of _your _patients. You are completely…"

He pictured her descending the mountains from her father Wotan waving her sword at him._ 'Hojotoho! Hojotoho!'_

He fled the elevator as soon as the door opened, which for a cripple with a cane wasn't nearly as fast as an angry administrator. _She_ continued her cadenza about him ignoring consult calls. _He_ continued to envision her center stage at the Met singing her displeasure with him in a screeching soprano. It only made his headache worse. Every note intensified with each step he forced himself to take.

"You spend your time playing your game boy, or watching your TV! I hired you to do doctor things!"

"Well, I watch General _Hospital,_" he countered.

She fixed him with a look reserved for chorus members and other lesser mortals. He cringed. _Oops, sarcasm is always wasted on a diva wearing a horned helmet._ He could _feel_ her running the prop sword through him. Maybe he was just wishing she would. _Please, stab me; just don't harangue me to death._

Finally exiting the hospital, the cool evening air brought him out of his reverie. Cuddy back in her usual lab coat, low cut blouse, too tight skirt, and pointy-toed high-heeled shoes, was right beside him. She was now at him about having insulted a big donor to the hospital, and the way he criticized colleagues in front of others.

_Jeez, how many more movements are there in this piece?_ He was amazed that she could move that much air past that tight metal corset with the grand teat-ons in the way. _God, he had her back in costume again._ _Maybe that experiment with LSD had been a bad idea._ He kept his eyes on his motorcycle coming tantalizingly closer and closer. His leg and head were killing him. _Come on House, just a little further and it's final curtain. _Reaching the bike, he eased his protesting leg over the seat and took his weight off it. _Much better._ He placed his cane in the side holder.

Cuddy grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and shook it, a gesture that clearly said '_are you listening to me?' She was reaching her crescendo. _

"House, there is _more_ to your job than just showing up!"

"I do save a life or two when I _show up_. Doesn't that count?" He gave her the patented House head tilt, and eyebrow arch.

"I am not questioning the job you do… as a doctor," she bit out.

"Excellent. For a moment I was afraid I had checked the wrong box at college registration. Damn it, I meant to check mechanics, not medicine. Wow! Close call."

House placed his helmet over his head. _Show over. Applause. Bring the leading lady her flowers._

She was trying to yell something at him. He started the engine and revved it, _Nope, sorry, no encore tonight._

"What? I can't hear you!" House shouted, squinting his eyes in mock concentration. He shrugged and rode off to Valhalla.

Cuddy watched him go. _Oh, don't worry Dr. House. You will be hearing from me! You have season tickets._

He arrived home and dropped his helmet and bag on the couch. Not hungry, he settled on a glass of bourbon and a Vicodin for dinner. He made his way slowly over to his piano, and sat on the bench placing the glass on the top of the piano's polished surface. House began playing notes at random until he realized they turned into the 'Ride of the Valkyrie'. In dismay he stopped playing. Taking another sip from the glass, he changed the tune. With one finger he plinked out, _'Cruella de Ville. Cruella de Ville. If she doesn't scare you, no evil thing will.'_ He took another sip and smiled to himself. He set the drink down. Placing both hands on the keyboard he poured everything he had into a jazz version and lost himself in the music.


End file.
